


Commit your crime in your deadly time

by Saniika



Series: Prompts [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Demon, Exorcism, F/M, Gore, Lillia the nun, Mila the Red, Murder, Possession, Prompt Fic, Red Riding Hood AU, Red Riding Hood Elements, Tumblr Prompt, anti-catholic, the Hunter...?, witch trial and burning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-30 01:23:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13939545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saniika/pseuds/Saniika
Summary: Dark Red Riding Hood prompt #14 I am curious how you'd write "The hunter murders the grandmother and claims a wolf did it. Red knows the truth but no one believes her." -> Mila, Georgi.Prompt from tumblr for Dark Red Riding Hood.





	1. The Red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tuples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuples/gifts).



> warnings are posted at the end of the chapter - you can click on the more notes link and then return up with the button TOP.  
> I post these at the end so I don't spoil anything. Please proceed at your own caution.
> 
> Beta-ed by [Icanseeclearlynow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ICanSeeClearlyNow/works), whom I gotten to know through bb on the server!  
> Please check out the writer. Showering them with love is healthy!

“Lilia, Lilia, please!” 

The nun tried to push away the young woman away gently at first, but the more she kissed her hand, the harsher she had to be. If she didn’t contain the captive in the cell in a composed manner, the guards would come, hearing the commotion. Sister Lilia did not it like when they came in to establish order. 

Order they called it. Filthy excuse, hiding evil deeds. Sister Lilia was lucky that she was under the protection of her habit. It was most likely the only thing that kept them away. The guards of cardinal Feltsman were horrible creatures, capable of such deeds that Sister Lilia doubted if they were human. No soldiers in the country were as ruthless as them and no one really knew what responsibilities their work entailed. Something told her that it was the reason why they were allowed so much and why their blatant transgressions were ignored so easily.

“I beg you, oh god I beg you! Oh god, please…!!! Please, please!” the woman hung on her arm and kissed her fingers, staining it with tears and snot. She was a complete mess, completely frantic, begging with her whole body not to leave her side. Her state was rather poor; a rough, linen tunic covered her from neck to toes. It was reused many times and contained countless stains from the previous owners which could not be washed away. Sister Lilia saw her bitten nails and dirty feet. The girl was kept barefeet in the dark, so she must have nibbled on her nails to contain some calm.

“What the fuck is going on there! Shut up or we’ll do it ourselves!” Sister Lilia flinched, eyes trained on the spot where the wall curved. The guards were only few meters away and could hear everything. It was not safe, no one here was safe. “Shhhh! Quiet, for the love of god, be quiet. Do you want them to come here? Child, release me, I have to go. It’s not safe to stay so long.” With that she roughly pressed the woman away from herself and fixed her robe. The woman fell to her knees and kissed the hem of her skirt and wasn’t coherent anymore.

“Yes, yes... Lilila, please I beg you, save me, please, please, please… It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me...” The red tresses were sticking to her cheeks, hiding the blue eyes. It wasn’t anything new to Lilia’s ears, she heard it countless times since they brought her here kicking and screaming. They snatched her straight from the townsquare as she came running from the woods drenched in the blood, just her eyes’ white piercing the sea of red. It was as if she had been born just now, thrown into the world, hit by the cold and and no one to console her with their warmth. The crowd was shocked. The talk echoed through the town for weeks after. 

The poor girl was deemed insane. They discovered her grandmother torn to pieces in her cottage and nothing helped her granddaughter Mila, since she held the murder weapon in her hands. A long thin knife, the blade gleaming in between the rivulets of blood; the men had to tear it away from her fingers. “The Hunter, the Hunter did it! It was him! The Hunter!” She screamed on and on. Yet none of her calls were answered and to her horror, she was locked up deep into the wet gutters of the dungeon while others decided upon her faith.

No hunters were sent out on a patrol that day, the soldiers attended the cardinal during an important procession. So no one officially or unofficially could have done it. The young woman’s cries didn’t make sense and even the most impartial souls could’t find a thread to hold onto her defense. There was no case to build upon. The process was quick and done in her absence, the stake built even faster. Sister Lilia was contacted and told that a young priest will accompany Mila on her last days and absolve her of the sins. The last fight for her soul as they said. Sister Lilia knew it was a farce, and that she was a little pawn in the catholic power grid. A step amiss meant you could just as easily end at the stake like Mila. The luckiest alternative was to sent into exile or a remote cloister with earth barren and stony, where you could only grow the most durable plants. 

That’s why she pried herself away from the poor woman’s clutches, her christian promise of caring for others giving way to her own self preservation. She walked out of the cell as if the ground was molten iron and her clothes itched her skin like army of ants. She consoled herself with the weak argument, that the priest will pick up the scraps and do his job. He was young, full of energy and belief. Sister Lilia didn’t understand how such a pristine soul could be serving the cardinal and most of all, how he became his favorite. 

Her shoulders became light when she saw him pass her by in the corridor. The air turned fresh, moist and pleasant when he entered. A calming fragrance accompanied him, clad in black, stripped of earthly possessions. His movements speaking of grace hypnotised the ones to which he whispered in silent baritone voice. Sister Lilia never met anyone like him before. In his presence she forgot her status and all earthly weight, the moments with him gave peace and clarity to everyone. She seen it with her own eyes before, hardly believing it was possible.

First time he entered the captive’s cell, Mila stopped to shake and let him sit her down on her bed. She allowed him to wash her face and comb her hair. He was caring for her like a mother would for her child. He didn’t bring any food or water, his kindness and human warmth seemed to sate Mila with what she hungered after. Sister Lilia left them alone, happy she could leave the burden to him and assured internally that Mila was in the best hands.

“Mila.” The priest said, no questions asked, no demands and yet it worked like magic, unlocking Mila’s lips like a forgotten chest. No sobs or swaying affect her speech, she was the same sane woman they all knew. “It wasn’t me, Father. I didn’t kill her.”

“Then who was it? Tell me their name. Tell me the name of the demon who led your hands. Tell me and all will be well. There is still time.”

Mila chuckled, wiped her stray tear and watched her intertwined fingers in her lap. “I don’t know his name, he called himself The Hunter. He said… he’ll come for me soon too. I’m, I’m glad. Burning at the stake is a better choice than dying at his hands. It was the devil himself. If you could only see his eyes. They glimmered like black beady pearls, soulless like they belonged to a pig.”

She looked at the young priest and took in his light frown. She hated to make him worried. If she could she would please him and fulfill all of his wishes. Yet, he never talked about anything else but her and the God. And so she found herself telling him everything, truth and hidden secrets that weighted at her soul. He cradled his cheek and brushed his calloused thumb on her cheekbone, eyes trained on her kindly from underneath the long eyelashes. He never argued with her, never challenged her, just asked and listened. What she said to him, he accepted and didn’t treat her like an insane person or a filthy witch. Mila would eat out of his hand.

“Georgi, could you ask the hangman to choke me before the burning? I, I have a ring my mother left me behind. Could it be enough to bribe him?” She couldn’t help but ask for the favor, clinging to his gentle hands, begging with her eyes.

Georgi’s frown deepened and to her surprise he pulled her up to his arms, up from the ground where she leaned upon his knee earlier. His embrace was sudden, enveloping her in safety, bare hands diving into the curls of her hair, his breath stopped at her shoulder. The priest’s worry clear and something more from him was being given to her, which she didn’t know how to interpret in the shock. Could he perhaps… would he even dare… her thoughts raced like birds in the storm. 

“Milochka!” Georgi’s broken voice whispered to her ear, his lips brushing her shell lightly, his palms mapping out her back, spreading his touch like a thin veil of summer rain. A kiss was pressed to her forehead and she couldn’t help but sigh dejected, disappointed deep down it wasn’t placed elsewhere as she hoped. His kiss burned her skin hours after he left.

The phantom of it chased away any nightmares of the execution that was scheduled in the morning.


	2. The Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mila doesn't get any sleep. She has a late visitor. To say goodbye or..?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings are posted at the end of the chapter - you can click on the more notes link and then return up with the button TOP.  
> I post these at the end so I don't spoil anything. Please proceed at your own caution.
> 
> Beta-ed by [Icanseeclearlynow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ICanSeeClearlyNow/works), whom I gotten to know through bb on the server!  
> Thank you for the motivation, thanks to you I decided to work on this a bit more.
> 
> Please check out the writer. Showering them with love is healthy!

Mila found herself almost at peace when the moon was high up. It’s light peeked from the window that was high up on the wall and the bars cut it in sharp stripes, scattering it all over the dirty floor. Somehow all looked cleaner, kinder and cool. Almost lulling, Mila’s eyes were heavy, falling under their own weight.

A sharp noise whipped the otherwise empty cell and Mila’s head jolted towards its origin.

A man stood at the bars, holding onto the door, waiting and his hesitation made Mila narrow her eyes and focus more on who it was. Was is a guard, perhaps looking for a last scraps Mila could keep as her dignity? No, the guards were not so kind, they wouldn’t let her sleep. Her eyes got used to the light after a moment and she recognized a tunic. Gentle fingers wrapped around the bars and the door opened fully.

“Milochka.”

The priest Georgi stood before her, looking taller but lost. Did he…? He had no keys in his hands, no guards stood at his back to let him in. It didn’t make sense… 

He looked over his shoulder, watching for anyone to barge in any moment and Mila understood he didn’t mean to be here and he himself didn’t understand how he could have gotten inside. But he was here. That’s all that meant. Whatever reasons or means he had to come here, it didn’t matter to her. 

Standing there in the milk white moonlight, his habit was made of silver, the ends of his hair gleaming halo around his head. He was an angel, a savior who had invisible wings. Torn after such horrible events, her stay at the prison and cruel handling - Mila didn’t dare to breach the magic of the moment and barely whispered his name, perhaps testing if it wasn’t an apparition.

“Georgi?”

The priest stretched out his hand in invitation and Mila laid her hand into his palm, sealing something far beyond her understanding. After that moment, she was led out of the cell, having no time to look back. His sure steps pulled her with such confidence, she had no doubts about getting out and didn’t question where he was leading her.

There were no guards, not a soul on the corridors and Georgi stopped once they were at the main gate of the prison. Behind those was freedom, abyss and woods. He pulled her hand firmer and stepped over the threshold. His tight lips the only sign of pressure he was under. They hastily rushed through the alley of pines, ducking in the shadows and avoiding the clear patches bathing in the moonlight. They got away, but it didn’t mean they could not be spotted by the nightwatch from the towers on the fortification.

Once at the chasm, Georgi turned to her, brows dropped once more and Mila quickly grabbed at his hand with which he cupped her cheek. Did he just lead her out and was he about to say goodbye? The realisation terrified her, worse than the impending doom of being burned. He began to talk, but Mila pressed her fingers against his lips.

“Hush, no! Please. Don’t say what I think you will.” 

He hesitated and wanted to answer, but the cracking of branches behind them got their attention. Someone was in the shadows of the shrubbery and watched them. Red stars shone from within the darkness and Georgi stepped in front of Mila, his hand finding his rosary on the belt. And then the curtain of the woods opened, revealing red sandal peeking from underneath a red skirt. Soon after the rest of the body slipped out. Right in front of them stood the cardinal, dressed in his red raiment with white delicate Richelieu embroidery so out of place on his collar.

“The Hunter..!” Mila’s whisper hiding behind Georgi found its way between the two men. Georgi throwing a quick look at her, saw the terror in her eyes and looking back once more on his master, the blood froze in his veins.

“Red, little Red. Creeping out of my house like this - in a company of my favorite no less. Couldn’t you wait in the cell like the good girl you are? I promised I’d come, didn’t I?”

Georgi was transfixed, not believing his own ears. 

”His Eminence..” Air left his lungs as if it was his dying breath.

“No, Georgi, it’s The Hunter after the midnight. That’s when my true master sends me to do their bidding.” The cardinal’s lips didn’t move, yet both of them could hear his words. And just like that Georgi knew. All those torn bodies, all those which were never found. The trials, the executed poor souls. None of which Georgi could have saved. These all were the deeds of the devil. A demon in a human shell standing before them.

A gleam of the long knife’s blade caught the shine of the moon and hit them like a falling star, Georgi grabbed Mila’s elbow and threw her away from himself. 

“Run.”

Then the red smudge blowed over her view and swallowed Georgi like a hungry cavern. Black fog surrounded the cardinal and the priest, large batlike wings sheltering them. Just like eagle landing over his pray, they closed over them and Mila could see nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: The cardinal appears and is possessed by a demon - he attacks Georgi, no details of what happens are described
> 
> Thank you for reading! Did you like the work? Please let me know and share it :)  
> I appreciate the motivation!


	3. Red Velvet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mila faces the enemy and nothing will be the same as before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings are posted at the end of the chapter - you can click on the more notes link and then return up with the button TOP.  
> I post these at the end so I don't spoil anything. Please proceed at your own caution.
> 
> Beta-ed by [Icanseeclearlynow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ICanSeeClearlyNow/works), whom I gotten to know through bb on the server!  
> Thank you for the motivation, thanks to you I decided to work on this a bit more.
> 
> Please check out the writer. Showering them with love is healthy!

The black pulsed, grew and soaked into the night air insidiously as a black plague would. Mila took the first steps backwards hesitantly, her brain reluctant to force the muscles to move. But as she moved released from the momentary shock, the adrenaline kicked in and her limbs moved on their own, muscles almost tearing as she sprinted over the bridge which hung above the abyss, made of used up wooden planks, its rope screeching under her weight. Her toes gripped into the small gaps between the slats, salty tears stinging in her eyes and she was on the other end, only then daring to look back.

The black fog spread wide, it swallowed the cliff, then the bridge and approached in an angry soundless cloudstorm. Eerie, moving, yet unheard and nothing like nature was. Somewhere inside was once where she stood with Georgi. Thinking she’s safe, safe and free, Mila could run, forget and save herself. She could make it if god was on her side. If there was a devil showing himself through the cardinal, then God must have been there watching over them. Perhaps it was the moon spying on on them.

She could hope and pray. But she didn’t. The cold fingers of anxiety close around her throat were about to choke her, but the anger won over. The sheer fury made her stop and watch the approaching fog, she stood her ground like an amazon. The audacity! How could this evil take away so much of life? How could it diminish someone so kind hearted as Georgi? How could it rip him from her wanting arms? How dared it wipe him off the earth?

Mila wouldn not take it. No more running, no more hoping. She quickly bowed down, taking a smaller rock and a fallen branch into her hands, her fist closing around them in a rigid grip. It may have been more powerful than her, it may have been Satan himself, but she wouldn’t go down running. Mila would not end as the rabbit prey of the Hunter.

The fog died out just before her naked toes, flowing over them like the wash of a wave, her eyes trained on it with stubborn focus. And as she looked up to see where it had disappeared to, she felt breath over her face. The cardinal murmured grinning: “Here, Red. Right here!”

In a blink of an eye she was pressed into a tree, claws closing over her throat, leaving her feet to dangle in the air as she was pulled up. The impact made her drop the branch but she swung her arm with full force, intending to hit its head. It was a futile attempt, since its arms were longer and in panic she realized too late. Grabbing onto the steel hard arm of the Hunter to get some support and hit the claws around her neck with short hits. The strength was leaving her quickly but she managed to stand on the man’s strong thigh. 

Her thrashing did nothing, the man in front of her just leered and chuckled, the cardinal’s eyes gleamed red, just like his robe, shimmering like a drop of blood that escaped the corner of his lips. It mesmerized her and she couldn’t look anywhere else, watching as it descended on his jaw almost as a trace of spilled wine.

And then her head was spinning, her vision tunneled and her hands felt light. Everything got so slow and she felt like she was just watching impassively on the scene, white creeping into her sight. But just like that it was suddenly gone. 

Mile realized she was free only after she hit the ground hard. She choked, the sound muted by the ringing in her ears. The pain from the flush of blood rushing into the places where it had been denied was so bad that she spilled tears. She tasted it in her mouth and writhed in the mud. A movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

The cardinal stood above her, unmoving and staring down. Why wasn’t he moving? Clarity returned to her and she noticed the arms wrapped around his neck, a hand pressing a wooden cross into his throat. 

“I cast thee back from whence you came!” The yell came from behind the Hunter’s back. “Begone!”

The earth shook. The trees twisted away from them, birds flew out of the woods like arrows towards the sky in all directions. But all the noise, all that commotion was overpowered by a doomful cry, breaking out of the Hunter’s wide gaping mouth. Lightning hit the man, casting all in shade and for a second night turned into a day so bright that Mila thought she’ll go blind. Then it died down as quickly as it came and rain cropped the earth with first drops. They sprinkled over her and covered the dead cardinal in a shower. Mila saw the following blood from his neck seeping into the ground, the cross still sticking in his throat like it was a headstone marking his grave. 

The quiet prayer reached her ears and only its familiarity made her slip into the present moment, gave her some sort of solace. The kind unwavering voice, the beloved baritone, caressing once more her own soul. 

“Forgive us our sins  
as we forgive those who sin against us.”

Georgi was praying on his knees over his former master, shadow hiding him in shade of the clouds as they slid over the pale moon. His posture was so rigid and bent that Mila was momentarily reminded of angel statues governing over the graves of the nobles. 

“Save us from the time of trial  
and deliver us from evil.”

He was alive, his speech firm and devoid of weakness. He was the angel of death himself, an exorcist and a murder in one person. An Archangel Michael, the leader of the army of God against the forces of evil. Mila couldn’t do anything else than joining him in the prayer, connecting her palms in front of her chest, letting his voice guide her towards the end of the Lord's Prayer.

“For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours  
now and forever. Amen.”

The shadow slipped off his form as he finished and Mila could see him as a human again. His robe hung from his shoulder, ripped diagonally over his torso. Deep, long cuts ploughed furrows into his body from his pectoral over his neck, through his jaw and ending above his eyebrow. His tremor made Mila snap out of her passivity. She could almost feel how the rain hit Georgi’s open flesh and stung worse than salt.

He swayed, released one hand from the praying gesture in the effort to keep himself from keeling over. She rushed to catch him, hold him in her arms and couldn’t speak. Georgi bridged the gap of the moment, once more so helpful just as he was in past. Forever the guarding support.

“Milochka, back there at the bridge - I wanted to tell you I want to take you away, hide you somewhere remote and safe. Build you a house and take you as my wife. I was sure that enough distance and time would offer us a chance, a new life.” 

She felt his ribs rising under her fingers as he breathed raggedly, felt the tremor of his body braced on one arm, keeping away his weight off of her. Even then he didn’t want to burden her. Georgi faced her nonetheless, continuing honestly and unsparingly, spitting blood in between.

“I wanted to give you all that you deserve and more. But how can I even say I love you, when I can’t offer any of that now. I’ve killed a man, which made me a murderer but I’ve delivered the earth of a demon, so now I’m tarnished. The evil will forever stain my fingers and latch onto my soul.”

How could she even make him understand, that having him there alive, meant more than a cottage at the feet of the woods. That him being close and safe was more than a happy life with a husband and a child. She snapped, dismissing the foolish dreams and all what could have been. All he thought she wished for. He was no longer a pastor and she was no longer his sheep. 

“I don’t need to to hear the words, I know you love me.” She paused, meeting his eyes. “It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life.”

His brows furrowed and he winced, because it moved the wounds on his face. Fervour seared through him in such force she didn’t see it before.

“But you won’t have a life with me like this! What could I offer? Running, constant battle and no safety! Milochka, I am not a part of church anymore but I cannot stop my journey! I will fight the evil and if I will have to do this till the end of my life, I will do it till my dying breath.”  
Her eyes strayed as he went on and she seeing the cross piercing the dead flesh still, it was all the lead she needed. Mila pressed her lips tightly and swiftly ripped the cross out, sending a further splurt of the blood into the mud.

“Where else will be safer if not on your side? You were the only one who believed me and didn’t run away. I won’t run away. I don’t want a wedding, I don’t want to hide. I’m tired of running. I’m tired of being a victim. I will not pray for mercy, I will fight!” She shook the cross between them, emphasizing what she spoke of.

“But I… I-” The rain flowed over them strong, rippling over their face right into their eyes and made it so hard to see. Georgi spit out blood and water, the interruption gave a chance to Mila to press on once more.

“Let me! Let me fight with you - for me, for us. I love you too!” Mila shouted loud, wanting to shake him in her frustration, only his wounds keeping her away from following her desires.

Georgi suddenly slipped and fell on his back, the splosh of the brown water punctuating his ungraceful fall. 

“Georgi!” She threw away the cross and was about to shake him, regardless of his wounds, but he raised his arm to keep her away and mumbled something.

“What?! Talk to me, Georgi! You can’t die on me now!!” Mila was tense like a bowstring, frightened that the man she loved was going to die after all.

“I said, what will be our handle name.” He watched the sky, talking to her without looking at her as if it made perfect sense.

She just stared confused. “A...handle name.”

“Well, yes. There is already The Hansel and Gretel. We have to think of something better if we want to enter the exorcist business. I want it to be an original, powerful handle name. Ringing to people’s ears.”

Just then she felt his eyes slide on her form and recognized the quietly budding mirth, crawling out from underneath the dirt and blood. Unwavering enthusiasm and will to live. 

“Baba and Starik.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: first - don't worry, Georgi is not dead. Yakov attacks Mila, choking her, holding her in air against a tree. She hits him several times with a rock. Georgi stabs Yakov in his neck, banishing the demon, killing Yakov. He is badly hurt with cuts and then they both pray Lord's Prayer. They will shout at each other. 
> 
> The title of the fic is from [Bauhaus - Bela Lugosi's Dead.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OKRJfIPiJGY)  
> The speech of Georgi during attacking Yakov is credited to [SqueezeBabe.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SqueezeBabe)  
> The prayer is a direct excerpt from The Lord's Prayer.  
> The quote in Mila's speak is from Startrek TNG, [this scene.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TCX90yALsI)  
> Baba is old hag in russian.  
> Starik is old man in russian.  
> I guess I can safely say they'll live a long life together. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Did you like the work? Please let me know and share it :)  
> I appreciate the motivation!

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: Mila is kept in harsh prison which affects her mentally and physically, the guards are hinted on to be cruel and a scum, their master the cardinal Yakov is corrupt priest, Lilia is a nun which doesnt follow her christian duties (she is afraid to help Mila and rejects her support to Mila), Mila was a witness to a gory murder of her grandmother and is drenched in blood and carried the weapon to the town, Georgi is a priest who is more touchy with his pupil Mila than a regular priest would be, Mila is tried and set to be burned at the stake, Mila talks about being choked by a hangman and asks Georgi if he can bribe the hangman so she wont be conscious while the burning - her execution or the mentioned choking is not portrayed here
> 
> Fic title from [Siouxsie And The Banshees - Face To Face](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zpaqBXc5MTk).
> 
> Thank you for reading! Did you like the work? Please let me know and share it :)  
> I appreciate the motivation!


End file.
